Four Knocks
by xbeautifulxdisasterxkate
Summary: "The four knocks will signal my return, Sherlock Holmes..."  The vanishing act, Ruby Sinclair is back. Holmes remembers her. Watson is confused. What mysteries will she bring with her?  HolmesXOC
1. Introduction

**Four Knocks**

**Introduction**

"_The four knocks will signal my return, Sherlock Holmes…"_

It had been six years since the detective had heard those words; it had been six years since he had seen the woman who said them. By now, he had convinced himself that the four knocks she had spoken of would never come. Sherlock Holmes sat in his study and practiced his violin, if only to irritate his companion. Watson sighed and continued to read the evening paper. Scotland Yard was dealing with a series of murders and seemed to be getting close to the conclusion of the case. Holmes, of course, thought the concept of the Yard solving a case without his help to be laughable. Holmes was a proud, vain man and always thought himself above others because of his extraordinary talents.

"Come in, Inspector." Holmes called suddenly, causing Watson to jump a bit.

The bearded man entered, "How did you know it was me?"

"Your footsteps gave you away, Inspector."

"Oh…well, we need your help with these murders, Holmes."

"Of course you do. I knew that sooner-or-later you would come to me for help. It was only a matter of time."

Watson sighed and attempted to tune out the bickering. Holmes and Inspector Lestrade discussed the details of the case. It had not been more than forty-five minutes since the Inspector's arrival when four slow, steady knocks sounded at the door. Holmes froze and nearly leapt to his feet. There had been no footsteps to alert him that someone was approaching, no swishing of a garment. The four knocks startled him more than the other factors.

"Come in…" he called, his voice almost shaking.

The door creaked open and a woman dressed in an emerald dress stepped in. Her hair was chocolate brown; her eyes were the same brown with a hint of red in them; her lips were blood red. The Inspector rose to his feet in surprise; Watson's jaw dropped; Holmes stepped forward and offered his hand to her.

"Ruby…"

"Sherlock…" she said, taking the hand he offered.

Holmes, like a gentleman, bent and kissed the top of her hand. The woman he had called Ruby smiled at the doctor and walked over to where he sat.

"You trying to catch flies with that, dear?" she asked sweetly, then took her hand and gingerly closed his mouth.

"Why have you come?"

"I need a reason? Maybe I just want to see my dear Sherlock and his faithful companion. Or maybe I came to see the Inspector."

"Most of the time you had a reason to call upon me. I have difficulty believing that this is merely a social call."

"Holmes, perhaps this is just her way of saying she's missed you. You don't have to be so suspicious of her."

"You are quite right, John." Ruby said with a smile.

Holmes grumbled something to himself and plopped back down in his chair. Watson looked back and forth between the two. He noticed that something about her was giving Holmes trouble and wondered what it was; he decided that if he ever got her alone he would ask why his friend was so distracted. He kept a close eye on the detective and the woman for the rest of the day, always noticing the same thing. One would observe the other when the other one was not looking; she, with a smile dancing across her face; he, with what looked like confusion, concern, and perhaps a hint of lust.

"_Just who is this woman to Holmes…?" _ He asked himself.

It was a question he would have difficulty answering. As the events to come unfolded, he would discover that he had become entangled in a tragedy that he could have never imagined.


	2. Let the Game Begin

**Chapter 1**

After a few days of Holmes's mood constantly shifting, Watson pulled him aside. He meant to uncover once-and-for-all what her significance was. However, this would be difficult. Holmes was never one to reveal information that was of a personal matter, and when he did, it was begrudgingly. Watson had done some digging and found a file among Holmes's things that contained information on Ruby Lynette Smithers, the woman currently rooming at The Grand Hotel. She had done nothing criminal, nothing despicable. Watson wondered why there was a file with many articles with her name in them and letters that bore her signature. From the look of the articles, she had merely performed a vanishing act in which her whereabouts could not be determined for six years. No matter how hard the authorities tried, they could not locate her. The moment they got close enough, she slipped away again. _Perhaps that is the reason Lestrade looked so shocked at her sudden appearance…_ he thought. The letters in the file were, of course, addressed to Holmes. None of them held any pertinent information, but they were very cryptic. Watson took the file and hid it in his rooms, hoping to inspect it thoroughly before Holmes found it.

"What is the meaning of all of this, Holmes? Surely this woman is not that important to you."

"No. She means absolutely nothing to me. She is nothing but a reminder of the past."

"Something happened between the two of you…"

"I did not say that. Watson, you are making very bold assumptions. Perhaps you have been speaking to Ruby. What has she told you?"

Watson sighed, "No, Holmes, I did not speak to Ruby. Though she is a pleasant woman, I daresay that I do not care what your relationship with her was."

Holmes sniffed and began to read the morning paper.

Ruby came 'round at eleven o' clock. She declined Ms. Hudson's offer of tea and went immediately up to Holmes's study. There she found Holmes holding his bow in poor Watson's face.

"Sherlock, play nicely."

"Why do you speak to me like I am a child?"

"You are acting like one. Stop acting as a child would and I will treat you like an adult."

Holmes glared at her; Watson laughed. He quite liked this woman, even though he knew very little about her. She had a way of handling the detective that was unlike anything Watson had ever seen.

"Now, Sherlock, don't pout. It simply isn't your style."

"How would you know what my style is? You've been gone for six years."

"That was necessary, dear."

"If I might ask, Miss Smithers, how is it that your eyes are that colour?" asked Watson.

"You mean the red streaks mixed with brown? It's a rare genetic mutation. I've been able to cause the same mutation in mice. It kept me occupied for three of the six years that I was gone."

"Wow, that's amazing! You will have to show me sometime."

"And I will, Doctor. All in good time." She said smiling.

Holmes glared at the wall while Ruby and I talked about various topics of interest. Normally, he would have a witty comment to make about whatever the topic of conversation was, but today he kept his mouth shut. Today it seemed that he was in a rather foul mood. Watson checked the time absentmindedly, and then remembered the patient who was undoubtedly waiting for him at his office.

"Miss Smithers, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, but duty calls."

"Of course, John." She replied, allowing him to leave.

Watson had not been gone for long when Holmes spoke: "Why did you come back?"

"Why? Do you wish me gone?"

"…No."

"And you cannot just deduce the reason I came back?"

Holmes sighed and stared intently at the petite woman in the chair a few feet away. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she was tired; there was a laceration just below her collar, indicating that she had been in a fight shortly before her arrival.

"You returned because you believe that someone is attempting to kill you."

"Only half right, Sherlock. I'm afraid that someone is trying to kill you. You see, I had a strange dream. In said dream, I always saw the same things: four lights slowly flickering out, you unconscious and bloody, and a faceless man standing over you holding a knife. The lights are symbolic of lives being taken; the faceless man is symbolic of the murderer."

"Oh, Ruby, that could never happen to me."

"Fine; don't listen to me. You would do well to remember what happened last time you didn't heed my warning."

"You're driving me mad…"

"I could say the same to you..."

When Watson returned to 221B Baker Street that evening, neither Holmes nor Ruby was present; it was not a cause for worry, though. He disregarded the absences. Ruby, of course would have gone back to the hotel and Holmes was probably off somewhere getting into trouble. Of course, he was correct. Holmes was participating in a boxing match. His opponent was considerably shorter and almost equally matched him in skill. Holmes was beginning to get agitated; he was blocked at almost every turn, but got a good deal of hits in. During an up-close struggle, the hat his opponent wore was knocked to the ground, causing a cascade of chocolate-brown hair to tumble down to the man's shoulders. Holmes stopped struggling for a moment upon truly seeing the hair and eyes, giving his opponent just enough time to land a hard punch on his jaw. Holmes's vision went blurry and then faded to black. His opponent left with a smug smile plastered on her face.

Ruby was resting peacefully in her hotel room when a loud banging disturbed her. She irritable answered the door and found Holmes and Watson standing there. Holmes brushed past her; Watson allowed himself to be asked to enter like a gentleman would. The detective was extremely agitated and paced about the room.

"What's the matter, Sherlock?"

"You. It was you the entire time."

"What would be your point?"

"I struck you…"

"That didn't bother you all those years ago. You would spar with me then."

Watson was confused. He had no idea what either of them was on about. He listened to the two bicker for a while and finally asked what had happened. Ruby told him about the fight reluctantly and submitted herself to the scolding he gave her.

"I was just trying to get his attention. I see it worked…"

Holmes sniffed and stormed out of the room; he did not return. Watson sat down beside Ruby and put his arm around her. He wondered to himself what the hell had happened between these two that could possibly have this effect. In all the years that John Watson had known Sherlock Holmes, he had never known him to react like this to one woman. She looked so harmless and innocent, yet everything she did seemed to set the detective off.

"Ruby, go after him."

"No, John. I cannot. I do not wish to remind him, or myself, of the past any more than I already have."

Watson sighed and said his goodbyes to her. Ruby sighed and climbed back into bed.


	3. No Reason At All

Chapter 2

Ruby spit in the face of her captor angrily; He struck her and screamed obscenities at her. She had been refusing to give any information for hours and she was beginning to weaken. It became evident to her that this man would not stop until he got what he wanted. She began to think of Sherlock and John. The Doctor, she would need eventually; The Detective, she needed now. His quick mind and strange methods would come in handy. Ruby could only hope that someone would realize that she was gone and needed help. She was clever, but never could have seen this coming, no matter how obvious it was to Holmes. The petite woman looked up at her captor, eyes flashing angrily.

"J'ai peux-être une femme, mais je suis sa femme. Fidèle à la fin…" she whispered, hoping he would fine her before the end came.

The next morning, Watson went back to Ruby's hotel, but found her gone. The room had been ransacked, things tossed everywhere. He immediately summoned Holmes and let him examine the scene. At first, the detective thought the entire thing was just an elaborate ruse, but knew better than to think that Ruby would do that to him. He looked around, really looked. Holmes saw everything, taking it in and trying to make something of it. Watson watched him carefully. The doctor continued to try to piece the situation together. It nearly gave the poor man a headache. Holmes suddenly stood upright and ran his fingers through his hair.

"What is it, Holmes?" Watson asked, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

"She's been taken. Somewhere near the Tower Bridge. A warehouse…."

"Abandoned?"

"Obviously…if it was in use and, therefore, frequently inhabited they would not be using it… Come, Watson! We must be off!"

Holmes left the hotel in quite a hurry, not bothering with a cab for the time being. The duo searched every warehouse in the vicinity of the bridge, finding nothing. On their last warehouse, Holmes was sure they would find her inside. They split up to search. Watson found what they had been looking for first.

"Holmes! You're going to want to see this…"

Holmes appeared in the doorway moments later, mouth falling open at what he saw. The emerald dress she had worn days before was draped over a chair, stained with blood. A small, neatly folded piece of paper rested on the seat of the chair. Holmes snatched it up and read it quickly.

Annoying, this one. You can have her back now…

Holmes crumpled the paper in his hand, "We should get back to Baker Street…"

The moment they arrived at the rooms, Holmes rushed upstairs. Watson heard his knees hit the floor, as if he were kneeling in front of something to reach it easier. He heard the detective yell for him and ascended the stairs himself. The sight of Sherlock Holmes kneeling before a woman nearly swept Watson off his feet. The dark brown eyes of his friend begged the doctor to help her. Of course, Holmes was too proud to actually beg, but Watson had learned to read him over the years. He crossed the room and knelt next to the sofa where she lay unconscious. She was wearing nothing but a coat that was unfamiliar to the two men. After a lengthy examination, John stood and glanced at his friend.

"She's alive, just unconscious. From the looks of her, she lost quite a bit of blood. I'll leave you alone with her for a while…"

Watson left, leaving Holmes with the unconscious Ruby. He knew better than to think that Holmes would do something stupid with her in that state. After dressing her in a pair of his pyjamas, Holmes sat by her for the rest of the day and through the night. Around 1AM, he heard a sharp intake of breath and a low groan from her.

"Sherlock…" she whispered.

"Right here, Ruby." He replied, his voice just above a whisper.

"I've wanted to tell you something for so long. I think now might be the time…"

He winced uncharacteristically. Never before had he heard her sound so weak and tired.

"Tell me."

"I-I loved you. All those years I was gone. I still love you, I think. I feel so weak…"

For once in his life, Sherlock Holmes had nothing to say. Her eyes flickered open briefly and met with his.

"Don't you dare. Ruby, don't say goodbye. There's so much you don't know."

She managed a weak smile that faded as quickly as it had formed. Ruby's eyes closed; Holmes took her hand and kissed it gently. Her skin was porcelain white and cold to touch. It was obvious that she was still conscious, just not speaking anymore. The detective stayed by her side.

Watson smiled to himself as he crept silently back up to his room. He had seen and heard everything. He wondered what Holmes had meant by "There's so much you don't know." At least there was some indication that he cared or had cared for this woman at one point or another. Watson had seen no point in staying by her that night. There was nothing more he could do for her other than let her rest.

The next morning, Watson plodded downstairs in his pyjamas to find Holmes still sitting on the floor next to Ruby. She was more animated than she had been last night, he noticed. The detective was smiling and talking to her. Holmes may have mistrusted women, but he could be charming when he wanted to be. It looked like they were getting along well after the events that had occurred. Watson cleared his throat to attract the attention of his patient and his friend. Holmes immediately got to his feet and turned around.

"Good morning you two."

"Good morning, Watson. Why are you grinning like that?"

"No reason…just glad to see she's all right."


End file.
